No one says a word.
My heart pounds loud as I set my feet and brace myself for another attack. Only, Spine doesn’t charge. Instead, she places her hands on her hips and studies me.
There is the crunch of gravel as Atlas crosses to stand at my side. “I know the Stokers,” he says. “I’ve trained with you—worked alongside you. I know you are never comfortable with the idea of retreating. You want to do something. Now we’re giving you the chance to do it. Instead of locking up truth, we want to spread it.”
Spine slowly turns and scans the faces of her Stokers. Then she shifts her attention to me. “You really think that we have enough of us to make a difference?”
“I do,” I say, and I mean it. If we do this right, there are enough gathered here to bring the truth to the city. And hopefully, the spectacle we create will give Rose the opening she needs to find the location of Isaac and Atticus. “The history book I was given to read gave lots of examples of how small groups of people can create change by doing something hard. I guess we’re asking you to be those people.”
Dewey steps out of the shadows, his hat in his hands. “‘Informed, concerned, and thoughtful citizens can change the world.’” He shrugs. “Reverend Espy—his quote seemed appropriate at this moment in time. Also appropriate is reminding you that our little gathering here will not go unnoticed by the Engineers much longer. Perhaps a decision needs to be made.”
Spine glowers at Dewey, but there is a spark of excitement in her eyes when she lifts her chin and says, “I will not speak for anyone else, but I am not interested in hiding down here when there is a chance to fight for the truth up there.”
A bunch of Stokers cheer. Atlas puts his arm around my shoulders, and Spine continues. “I will not judge anyone who wishes to stay here in the Lyceum during the lockdown. You must make the choice that is right for you. If you wish to leave, you can do so now. All I ask is that you not say anything to anyone else in the Lyceum until those of us who wish to take this step have gone up to the city.”
Not one person moves, and a brilliant smile spreads across Spine’s face as she turns toward me. “Well, you’ve managed to gain a small army. What do you need us to do?”
We give her a quick outline of how spreading the truth is going to work—or as much of it as we have come up with so far. Handing out the books and the pages and our hope that people will ask enough questions or cause enough confusion for us to be able to locate the Unity Center where Atticus and others like Isaac are being held so we can free them.
“The Engineers are never going to let us operate from here,” Spine says.
“No,” Dewey agrees. “They ordered the lockdown because they’re worried about losing more Stewards. Scarlett and Holden will do their best to cause problems for us if they realize how many are defying their wishes.”
“So we move everything out of the Lyceum before they figure out what we’re doing,” I say. “Maybe the tunnels?”
“I’ll talk to Index,” Atlas offers. “The exit station is close, it has supplies, and there should be enough room for all of us to go over the mission and hide out once we’re finished.”
And Index wasn’t wild about the lockdown, either.
“That’s good.” Dewey rubs his chin, then snaps his fingers. “And if Spine can lend me a number of her Stokers, I can make it appear as if they are running books to the vault, but instead they’ll be moving our supplies.”
“Once everything is relocated, we’ll go over the rest of the plan.” Which will give me time to figure out exactly what it is. “Sounds good.”
“As soon as Atlas gets the green light from Index, we’ll get to work. I’ll send my Stokers to Dewey in groups of two or three, and you . . .” Spine frowns at me. “What do we call you? Have you even chosen a name?”
I hadn’t thought about it, but when I look down at the book in my hands I realize what it should be. “You can call me Merriam.” If nothing else, it’s close enough to my own name that I will remember to answer to it.
Spine smiles and holds out her hand. “Well, Merriam, it sounds like we need to get to work.”
I take her hand in my dirt-streaked one and hold fast. “Yes, we do.”
“Lockdown is in just over thirteen hours.” Spine turns, leaps up onto a wrought-iron fence, and starts shouting orders.
“Merriam,” Atlas says, “what you just did was . . .” He searches for the right adjective.
“Unexpected?” I repeat the word he used last night before Rose called.
“Yeah.” He gives me a slow smile. “Spine and the others would have heard me out, but you impressed them. That’s not easy to do.”
“I was impressed that you understood some of the book you were given.” Dewey appears at my side. “We have people and, if Atlas is correct, a place to assemble. But we still don’t have a logistical plan that will make this work.”
“We will,” I say. “I just have to figure out what it is.”
“I’ll get you the map your mother, Atticus, and I were using.”
Dewey is back in no time with a worn city map as well as paper and a number of pencils. He then heads off to organize how to remove the supplies from the hidden room. Atlas goes to talk to Index, leaving me to figure out how best to get the truth into the hands of as many people as possible.
Since I don’t want the Engineers to spot me, I find an out-of-the-way corner of the Lyceum to spread out the map. Worry snakes through me as I study the small red X’s someone marked throughout the entire city. There are fifty of them in all. Some in the heart of the Loop. Others along L and bus routes farther out from the center of Chicago. We might have enough Stewards to hit every area my mother and Atticus identified. The Marshals will be alerted not long after we start. So we will have only a short window to operate. Spreading out seems like the obvious answer. The more areas in the city we share the truth in, the less chance the Marshals have of putting a complete stop to our work. It makes sense.
And yet I can’t help thinking that there is something wrong with that plan. Maybe if we were doing the slow release of information my mother and her friends had planned, I would feel more comfortable with the choices they made. But tonight’s operation is different and—
I jump as something brushes my arm and turn to see the shining green, unblinking eyes of a sleek gray cat staring at me. “What do you think, Margaret?” I ask quietly, wishing Atlas were here to give his opinion. “Should I just do it my mom’s way?” After all, she and the others had been working on this plan for months. They were Stewards. They knew all this stuff better than I do.
The cat saunters onto the map, sits in the center of the pages, and promptly puts up her leg to wash. And I take that as a sign. While my mom and the others knew the city, they were Stewards. They had been looking at the map for places to dispense the truth without drawing too much attention to what they were doing. But tonight, we want to be noticed. We want to get the attention of people who don’t know the truth. The grander the spectacle, the more curious people will be to find out what the papers and books say and the harder it will be for the government to deny. And the bigger the action we take, the better shot we have at distracting Rose’s father. We need lights and activity and people—places where there will be lots and lots of people.
Margaret curls up next to me as I pull out the paper and pencils Dewey demonstrated for me so I knew how to use them. Then, I start creating a list of locations. The resistance of the dark-tipped pencil as it runs along the paper is strange, and I break several black tips off the pencils as I work.
The Magnificent Mile
Navy Pier
The America First Theater
Wrigley Field
Grant Park
The signal for my phone cuts in and out, and Margaret swipes at me when I move around looking for better reception. While I appreciate the Stewards’ lack of internet connection, not having it makes it harder to search for street festivals, concerts, and sporting events located near the places I’ve already identified. In between bouts of no-signal messages, I also look up the addresses of the two television stations in the city and add those destinations to the ever-growing list.
When Atlas finds me, I’m surrounded by pages filled with cross-outs and additions and ideas. He hands me a bottle of water and a sandwich and tells me Dewey’s bags are slowly being relocated to Index’s station.
“So far Scarlett and Holden haven’t noticed,” he says. “Spine is having a few of the Stokers creating problems they have to solve in order to distract them. Dewey is hoping we’ll be done in another two or three hours. Once they’ve finished, Dewey and I will come back to get you. Dewey said he gave you their plan for tonight.”
“I think I have a better idea,” I say. Quickly, I explain my hope of creating a fast and furious spectacle of information that will be impossible for anyone to ignore. When I’m done, I wait for his reaction as he studies the map his dad helped create. “What do you think?” I ask.
He purses his lips, and I recognize the flicker of loss and worry that flashes in his eyes before he turns to me and smiles. “I think Dewey is going to be impressed again. But we can’t cover all these locations. Not with a few dozen people. If this is going to work we’ll have to focus on five or six places and do our best to reach as many people in those zones as we can.”
He’s right.
I break the rules without guilt and feed bits of my sandwich to a purring Margaret as I circle the sites I think will have the most people in attendance tonight. Then I call Rose to give her an update. She listens to my ideas, and I can hear the hope in her voice as she helps me winnow down the list of locations even further. Gloss magazine dispatches photographers and reporters to events around the city all the time, and Rose is a well of information as to what types of events are the best draws and even has an idea for how we can use a different location to create an extra distraction—one that will hopefully give us more time to get the truth out to the city.
My phone cuts in and out as Rose gives me a quick update on what is happening aboveground. Her father claims to be in negotiations with the gang he’s blaming for Isaac’s kidnapping but says the police don’t have any leads as to where Isaac is being held. Despite the terrible connection, her anger comes through loud and clear, and she is glad to play her own part in our plan. By the time Atlas returns to tell me it’s time to go, I have settled on six specific areas in the city that will be the main focus of tonight’s rebellion. I just hope I’ve chosen well, because time is ticking and there is no telling how long we have before Isaac and Atticus are either killed or shipped out of the city to who knows where.
“Dewey and Spine are waiting for us in the tunnels,” Atlas says as I fold up Dewey’s map and shove it and the list I’ve created into my bag. “Are you ready?” he asks, holding out a hand.
Margaret barely looks up from her nap as I pull my hat down low over my forehead, put my hand in Atlas’s, and say, “Let’s go.”
The Lyceum is humming with low conversations and hurried activities as the time remaining until the lockdown dwindles. I spot two Stewards hugging each other before one hurries toward an exit. It must not only be Spine and her Stokers who aren’t interested in giving up their freedom for safety.
Spine and Dewey are just inside the tunnel when we duck through the exit.
“Are all the Stokers out?” Atlas asks as Spine turns and we fall in step behind her.
“All but four,” Dewey answers.
And Spine explains, “They wanted the chance to convince a few of their friends to join us. They promised to be at the exit station in thirty minutes for their assignments. We could use the extra help.”
We turn the corner and slow as we come face-to-face with Scarlett and two Stewards I’ve never seen before.
Scarlett slows. “Spine, just the person I’ve been looking for. I’m concerned with reports that a number of Stokers have yet to return from their final runs. I assured Holden they would be back before the doors are locked at midnight, but he is worried . . .” Her voice trails off and her eyes narrow as she spots me standing in the shadows behind Spine. “What is Folio’s daughter doing here? I thought I made it clear we didn’t need any distractions right now.”
“I’m leaving,” I say. “You don’t have to worry about me distracting anyone.”
“That’s good to hear, but it appears you have already caused a distraction. Dewey . . .” Scarlett steps forward, and the two Stewards accompanying her follow suit. “You don’t often leave the Lyceum.”
Dewey shrugs and says affably, “Just stretching my legs.”
“Well, I’m certain there are things that could use your attention back in the Lyceum. Which is where we all belong. Atlas, make sure your rider doesn’t get lost on her way out. Spine, if you could come with me. Holden and I have several items we need to go over before the lockdown starts.” She and the other two Stewards sweep past us. When Scarlett realizes Dewey and Spine have not moved, she turns back. “Are you coming?”
“No,” Spine says, folding her arms over her chest.
“No?” Scarlett lifts her chin. “What do you mean, no?”
Dewey smiles. “We have decided Hans Christian Andersen was correct. Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.” When Scarlett just gapes at him, Dewey lets out a sigh and says, “We are leaving the Lyceum, Scarlett. We aren’t interested in the safety of the shadows.”
“The Marshals are closing in,” Scarlett says. “Look what happened to Atticus.”
“Atticus wished for people to learn the truth,” Dewey says. “You refused to listen.”
“Because I understand how important it is to protect the truth at all costs,” Scarlett snaps back.
“The truth can only be protected if it is not hidden,” Atlas says. “We have to fight their lies with our facts. If we hide, they win.”
Scarlett turns toward Spine. “The lockdown is essential.”
“The lockdown will keep those inside the Lyceum safe,” Spine says. “But what of everyone else? We are tired of hiding.”
“‘We?’” Scarlett’s eyes widen. “The missing Stokers . . .” She whirls to face her two Stewards. “Get inside the Lyceum. Tell everyone Holden and I have ordered the rails to be changed to red. Set guards at the door and prepare to close them when I arrive. No one is allowed to leave the protection of the Lyceum as of now.”
“You can’t force people to stay who don’t want to,” I say as the two race off to do her bidding.
“I will do whatever I must to protect the Stewards. Even if it means protecting them from themselves.”
“You’re taking away their choices,” I say. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be fighting against?”
“I don’t need a child to tell me what I’m fighting against,” she snarls.
Atlas steps forward. “My father believed it was time to—”
“Your father would have led the Marshals right to us if he had been given the chance. I stopped him from putting the Stewards in danger.”
“It was you?” The words are barely a whisper as horror spreads through me. “You said you stopped Atticus. How did you stop him?”
“You called the Marshals?” Atlas demands. “What about you being worried that he would tell the Marshals what he knew and how he could reveal where the Lyceum is?”
“I didn’t tell them he was a Steward. Just a person asking strange questions about words and paper. Your father lost his way, and I was certain he would use the deadman’s switch before telling them anything about the Stewards, if for no other reason than to make sure they never found you.” Scarlett takes several steps backward. “I will keep the Stewards safe. And when people are ready, the truth will be waiting for them.” With that, Scarlett vanishes into the darkness.
“Wait!” Atlas lunges after her, but Spine cuts him off and when he tries to get around her she shoves him back. Hard.
“Move!” he yells, trying to go around her, only to have Spine shove him again.
“I get it. I do, but going after her won’t help us find him. Keep it together,” Spine barks as Atlas struggles to get free. “Scarlett said she’s locking down the Lyceum early. That means we have to get out of here now.”
As if on cue, a loud, grinding whine echoes in the tunnel.
“Let’s go!” Spine releases Atlas and bolts down the tunnel, and we race after her. The creaking sound grows louder as our feet pound the ground and flecks of dirt begin to fall from the ceiling above.
We turn the corner. More dirt and shards of rock rain down as a loud thud echoes and the tunnel shudders.
“That’s the first entrance being sealed,” Dewey yells. “The others will be right behind.”
We race down the tunnel. Dust and debris make it hard to see. Dewey keeps pace with Spine ahead of me. I’m amazed at his speed and grateful for the bouncing light he holds aloft for us to follow.
We turn a corner and another tremor shakes the ground. The echoing sound of something slamming into place rings loud, as does the grating creaks of the gears.
“That’s the second door dropping into place!” Atlas shouts.
“The next two won’t be far behind,” Spine calls, and somehow manages to run faster as she calls back, “Hurry!
I try to shut out the grinding metal and concentrate on running. The ground slants upward. Atlas yells that we’re getting closer. I try to remember how far it is to the entrance we came through, but it is impossible to get my bearings. The thick, chalky taste of clay fills my mouth. My heart strains against my chest.
“There’s the opening!” Spine hollers.
I see a glow through the haze far down the tunnel to the left, clench my fists, and run as hard as I can.
My heart jumps as another crash rumbles through the tunnels. Dirt showers from above from the force of another entrance slamming shut. The third of four. The last one will be sealed in moments.
I stumble. A rock cracks against the back of my head and I crash into the uneven ground—hard.
Pain spins.
The gears grind louder.
I push to my knees. Something hot and wet trickles down my neck, and I blink to bring the world into focus. Spine climbs into the opening. Dewey and his light are right behind.
“Meri!” Atlas shouts and starts back toward me.
“Get out!” I yell as I climb to my feet, ignore the blood running down my back, shift the bag on my shoulder, and run.
My head throbs. The tunnel shudders. Dirt falls faster from above. Spine shouts that I’m almost there. Atlas waves from the entrance as if willing me closer. The grumbling of the gears swells as I reach out, take Atlas’s hand, and am pulled inside.
I gasp for breath and put my hand against the back of my head as something swooshes behind me. The ground jumps under my feet, and I turn as a solid steel panel slams down, sealing off the entrance I just climbed through.